


accidentally

by Anonymous



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Diapers, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Dubious Consent, Elias Bouchard being a manipulative bastard but what else is new, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Omorashi, Wetting, general warning for elias related fuckery, like INCREDIBLY dubious folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-01-31 01:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21437815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jon has been having some...issues. Elias is willing to help.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard & Jonathan Sims, Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 44
Kudos: 191
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is WEIRD and DEFINITELY OUT OF CHARACTER and SUPER SELF-INDULGENT and i DON'T CARE i JUST don't care folks. set at an incredibly vague point in season three i guess.

It’s the third time this week.

It’s late, at least, so Jon is not so afraid of someone barging in on him in the toilets, naked from the waist down, furiously rinsing piss from his trousers. He still feels miserable about the whole situation, soft cock hanging between his thighs, cleaning up after he _wet himself _at _work, _again, _for the third time in a week._

More than three times, if he counts at home, which- he shakes his head, ignoring the hot tears pricking the corners of his eyes. One thing at a time. He’d at least put some spare pants in his bag this morning, hoping desperately he wouldn’t need them, that the first two times were flukes.

Tuesday had been embarrassing but ultimately harmless, just a quick stream of piss escaping him before he got to the lavatory, leaving no one the wiser but Jon himself. Wednesday was worse; he’d made a wet spot about the size of a golf ball on his trousers, but it was mercifully late in the evening, so he’d been able to snag someone’s forgotten sweatshirt and tie it around his waist, allowing him to take the tube home with his dignity still mostly intact. But today…

It being well after everyone else in the archives had gone home for the night was his only blessing. He’d been utterly absorbed in a long statement, one that seemed to have little to nothing to do with the Stranger or the Unknowing, but it consumed his attention easily. Martin had left some hours earlier, so Jon had gathered a few bottles of water from the break room and settled in.

By the time he was finished, he’d already started urinating at full force.

So- here he is, half naked, ruined trousers in the sink, breathing heavily. He gives up on the trousers so he can clean himself up instead, pull on the clean pants, and-

And then what? Wait for his trousers to dry on the radiator, hope they wind up looking acceptable enough for him to call a cab home? He doubts it. Jon’s options are to go home late at night in obviously piss-stained trousers, or wait here in the archives and hope someone likes him enough to not ask too many questions about why he’s been sitting around in his pants all night.

Neither one holds much appeal.

The knock at the door startles him. Who the hell could be down here at this hour? Who the hell besides Jon himself has any reason to be lurking at the Magnus Institute so late at night?

Jon scowls. Who the hell indeed.

“I’m _busy, _Elias,” he snaps.

“Oh, Jon, no you aren’t,” comes the reply, bored and amused at the same time. “Are you going to let me in?”

“No! No I bloody well am _not _going to-”

“Fine, fine.” The lock clicks open and Elias steps in, pocketing a massive ring of keys. “I thought I’d give you the option, anyway.”

Jon can feel his face _burning_, plenty of it from anger but a great deal from humiliation. “What,” he hisses, “do you _want_.”

Elias smiles at him. “I understand you’ve been having quite the week, Jon. I thought you might appreciate a bit of help.”

_No you don’t,_ Jon wants to yell, _you know perfectly well I don’t want your _fucking _help, you just came here to laugh at me, like you have nothing better to do than bother your little Archivist._

Instead, he says, “I don’t expect you have much I’d find particularly helpful right now.”

“Ah, that’s where you’d be wrong. I have a warm car and a driver who- unlike _some _people -knows better than to ask lots of questions. Doesn’t that sound nice right about now?”

Jon says nothing, only glares at Elias, and finds them both in the back of a well-kept car a few minutes later.

Jon realizes quickly that they aren’t headed towards his flat, but further into well-to-do London. He’s too tired to argue. He’ll let Elias drag him into his home and gloat over how little _control _Jon has, wait until Elias feels he’s made his point and lets him go, lets him head back to his own bed to try and forget about all of- _this._

The house looks nearly exactly how Jon expected. Were he here with anyone else on any other night, he might even enjoy the look of the place, but now, he trudges through the garden and in through the front door.

It’s not until Elias leads him to what looks like a spare bedroom that Jon stops. “What is this.”

Elias, to his credit, finally looks at him seriously. “You’re having problems, Jon,” he says. “Problems I hadn’t anticipated, to start with. But I suppose everyone reacts to stress differently- so I decided I should offer some _practical _help.”

Elias leads him into the bedroom. It looks perfectly normal- posh, but normal. It’s unsettling in its normalcy.

Elias opens a drawer. “I know you don’t trust me, Jon,” he says. “But I truly am offering this in the hopes of helping you. No Entities or Avatars- just you.” From the drawer, he produces a thick, white plastic diaper.

Countless emotions rear their heads within Jon instantly. He tries to quash them all, to react logically, like a- like a fucking _adult_-

Abruptly, he starts to cry.

Not sobs, just free flowing tears pouring down his cheeks. He pulls his glasses off and wipes at his eyes in a vain attempt to make himself stop, but it’s useless.

“I don’t- I don’t need that,” he says, but it comes out as a whisper.

Elias steps closer to him. “Jon, I rather think you do.”

Jon shakes his head. “No, it’s- it’s fine, I’m fine, I can- I can drink less, I can set an alarm or, or something-”

Elias touches his cheek oh so softly. “Jon.”

Jon lets Elias lay him down on the bed and take his clothes off, lets him pour powder on his crotch and tape the diaper up. Elias redresses him in soft pajamas- normal ones, warm and flannel. Jon lets Elias tuck him into bed and whisper, “Good night, Jon.”

Jon cries silently as he falls asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO thank you for all the lovely comments on the first chapter, who knew people saying nice things about your weird id fic could be so validating!! this chapter is short bc i still don't really know what i'm doing with this fic besides getting it out of my system. anyway thank you again for saying nice things, enjoy!!

When Jon wakes up, the first thing he notices is the heavy, foreign feeling between his legs.

He sits up quickly, face heating as he grabs himself. Plastic crinkles under his hand, and Jon is forced to accept that he is sitting in a strange bed, wearing a wet diaper.

…It’s a sight better than waking up with wet trousers, anyway.

No, _no, _not thinking about that- Jon scrambles out of bed to start searching for his clothes. They are, unfortunately, nowhere to be found. Fucking _Elias._

“Good morning, Jon.”

Speak of the devil, _et cetera. _Jon jumps and glares. Elias, already primly dressed, sans coat, smiles back at him.

“I don’t know what you've done to me,” Jon snaps, “but I am absolutely _positive _it isn’t of any use to the Eye, so _why _the _hell-_”

Elias sighs, sounding incredibly put-upon. “You can’t be serious, Jon. I told you last night, this was entirely outside my expectations. The way your body reacts to stress is hardly _my _fault. Now then, I imagine you’d like to get changed.”

“Yes, I’d _very much _rather have my own bloody clothes on when I go into work-”

“Oh, doubtlessly. I got them cleaned up for you, don’t you worry about that.” Elias fixes him with a look that makes Jon’s skin crawl. “But that wasn’t what I meant.”

Jon tenses. “Absolutely not.”

“Jon.”

“It’s- it’s completely unnecessary-”

“Is it really? Does that mean you stayed dry through the night?”

Jon feels himself go red, redder than he already was at the humiliation the morning had brought. There’s no point in trying to lie to Elias; he instead argues, “But during the _day-_”

Elias’s gaze is so pitying Jon might be sick. “You know perfectly well how we got to this point, Jon. I’m only trying to help you. The bath’s on your left, I’ll leave you to shower. Unless you need help with that, too.”

Once again, Jon feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He manages to keep them at bay as he turns on his heel, stomps into the bathroom, and does not slam the door but does close it with more force than necessary. Only when he’s alone does he let the tears fall. Elias can probably tell anyway, but it makes Jon feel the tiniest bit better to not cry in front of him again.

He feels ridiculous. What is _wrong _with him? Can’t keep his fucking pants dry. He sniffles softly, undoes the wet nappy with disgust and tosses it in the bin. Does not think about how it was at least better than waking up to sodden bedsheets.

He turns the water as hot as it will go and does his best to think of nothing while he showers.

When he gets out, towel wrapped around his waist, Elias is of course still in the bedroom waiting for him, perched patiently on the edge of the bed. He pats the mattress, and Jon doesn’t have it in him to argue.

He lays down, towel hesitantly removed, feeling considerably more conscious of his nakedness than he had last night. At the very least, nothing about the way Elias touches him feels sexual, instead diapering him with quick, easy professionalism.

Elias lets him dress himself. Jon isn’t worried about coming into work in the same clothes as the day before, no one in the archives will be particularly surprised by that, but the way his trousers feel tight over the diaper gives him pause. It’s thick, bulky, crinkles loudly when he moves. It feels so _obvious, _but he isn’t sure if that’s only in his head.

“Don’t worry,” Elias says. “No one will notice.”

Jon doesn’t believe _that _for a second. There’s nothing to be done, though, except hope he doesn’t have cause to walk around much today.

He joins Elias in his car again, gets dropped off a block away from the Institute so no one sees them arriving together. Jon’s not sure which he’d prefer, people thinking he’d slept with Elias or knowing the truth. _No, Martin, of course I didn’t have sex with Elias, he just brought me to his home and put a diaper on me because I keep pissing myself. _Jon lets out a short, slightly hysterical laugh, startling a nearby pedestrian. Yes, that’d go over so well. Might as well announce it to the entire archives. Maybe it’d get Tim to laugh like he used to.

Jon walks into the Institute, tries not to wonder if he’s walking strangely because of the nappy between his legs, and heads down into the archives.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello and welcome to another chapter of "jon pees and cries about it", thank you again for all the nice things you've said, you are directly responsible for jon's tears, i hope you're proud
> 
> pls enjoy

Jon is, fortunately, the first one in the archives. He sits at his desk and resolves to not get up for the rest of the day. It sounds impractical, but it’s- it’s fine. He’ll make it work. There’s work to be done, and it will keep him distracted enough he won’t have to think about it.

It takes him a few hours to realize that if he isn’t going to move, he’s going to have to actually _use _the diaper.

What’s worse- risking someone noticing the bulge in his trousers or wetting himself _again _and proving Elias right? The latter, the latter is obviously worse, yet Jon can’t seem to make himself stand up and sneak off to the restroom. Laying the situation out logically won’t shut up the panicky little voice in his brain, _but what if someone sees?_

So he’s stuck here in his office, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, when there’s a knock at the door.

Martin opens it just a bit, not quite entering the room. “Jon? I, ah, I made some tea?”

Jon drops his head into his hands, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m _fine, _Martin.”

“Oh, all right.” Martin sounds entirely unconvinced. He comes in and sets a steaming mug on the desk anyway. “Later, maybe.”

“I don’t- I _said_ I’m fine-”

“Right, sure,” Martin says. “But, um, can’t help but notice it doesn’t seem like you’ve had _anything _to drink today.”

Jon wants to argue, but his desk is conspicuously clear of cups and bottles. He settles for glowering at the mug of tea instead. Some leftover paranoid part of him wants to accuse Martin of scheming with Elias, but this is really no different than any other day, and besides, Jon can’t help but think Martin would scarcely leave him alone if he had any idea what was happening. He sighs. “…Thank you, Martin.”

“Oh, well, you’re welcome.” Martin lingers a moment longer but finally, blessedly steps back. “I’ll…let you get back to work, then.”

Jon is left alone in his office, engaged in a staring contest with a mug of tea.

He _hasn’t _had anything to drink save for a glass of water from Elias’s tap, the only thing Jon felt Elias couldn’t somehow meddle with. Nothing but one glass of water and he’s _still _feeling mild pressure in his bladder, _and _he’s thirsty. Jon allows himself a moment to be a sullen child and think about how the world is so unfair, then drinks his tea.

This is a mistake.

Well, he’s not thirsty anymore, so there’s that taken care of. But over the next hour the need to piss grows worse, probably exaggerated by how he can’t stop _thinking _about it.

He can make it to the toilet. If he walks quickly, no one will notice anything strange, and he can urinate in peace, and bury the damned diaper in the trash while he’s at it, end this foolishness, what’s Elias going to do, _fire _him-

But he can’t move. There’s no dread monster holding him in place, only his own brain, and no matter how many times he screams _get up, get up god damn you _at himself he still can’t do anything more than squeeze his thighs together and wince at the crinkling noise the motion creates. He can’t actually have to go this badly, it shouldn’t be a problem to get up and walk down the hall to bathroom, why _can’t _he?

He feels the tiniest bit of urine trickle out of him.

Jon presses his hand to his mouth to stifle the moan he makes as his bladder gives up and the diaper floods with warmth. The absolute humiliation combined with the sickening relief- he bites down on the heel of his hand as he lets out a full sob. The stream of piss stops before too long- there genuinely wasn’t much inside him, which makes it all the worse -and Jon is left shaking, sitting in his own wetness.

It still feels better than wetting his trousers, but the fact that this occurs to him at all has him bright red with shame, even more than he already was. It’s _warm _and _wet _and _humiliating_ but when he steals a glance down at himself, he looks clean and nearly normal, and even then, he’s still not sure how visible the diaper is to someone who didn’t already know about it. It is, horrifyingly, much better than the accident he’d had yesterday.

Jon isn’t sure how long he sits there, office silent save for his own heavy breathing, when the door opens.

“Hello, Jon,” Elias says. He steps into the room, door closing firmly behind him. “How are you doing?”

Jon glares at him but doesn’t dare speak; he thinks he could start crying again at any moment.

Elias just nods like they’re discussing the weather. “Yes, that’s what I thought. Hm, your desk really isn’t very big, is it- we’ll have to just use the floor, then.”

There is something that looks like a gym bag slung over Elias’s shoulder. Jon stares as Elias kneels down and starts taking things out of it, starting with a folded plastic pad that he spreads out on the floor.

Elias looks at him expectantly. “Well?”

“You can’t,” Jon whispers hoarsely.

“I suppose I don’t _have _to, but I’m sure you don’t want to be sitting like that all day. You could get a rash.” Elias continues to dig through the bag. “Now, I may be in _very _good shape for my age, but I must ask you don’t make me stay here on my knees longer than I have to, Jon.”

Jon walks towards him like a man to the gallows and slowly lays down. Elias’s smile is somehow _fond_. Jon tries to keep his eyes on Elias, in the hopes that it lets him maintain some kind of dignity, but as soon as Elias starts cleaning him with baby wipes, Jon stares at the ceiling instead. He didn’t know it was possible to blush this much.

“There,” Elias says as he tapes up the clean diaper. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

It does; the wet one had been starting to go cold. Jon stays silent.

Elias pats his bare thigh and hikes his trousers back up. “Well, it seems it’s time for both of us to get back to work. Have a good afternoon, Jon.”

Long after Elias has repacked his bag and left, Jon stays sitting on the floor. He stays there for quite some time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i'm back did you miss me? no? too bad, i'm here
> 
> here is a short chapter to ease us into some other fun things. i have a FEW plans but this is still very much a playground for whatever i feel like throwing in and i'm not positive what i'm doing lol. pls enjoy!

When five o’clock comes around, Jon is left with a difficult choice.

He has to keep working, even if he feels no closer to stopping the Unknowing than he did before. But- he _did _wet himself again just a few hours ago; he’d tried to make it to the toilet, deciding he’d rather risk some strange looks than go through all _that _with Elias again. However, just as he was nearly at the urinal, he felt his bladder give up, felt that warm rush all over again- nowhere near as heavy this time, but still humiliating.

Elias hasn’t been back down in the Archives for another change. Jon is mostly relieved, but a much more physical part of him is deeply unhappy to be sitting in his own cold urine.

So- he’d _really _like to go home. He would like nothing more than to go home, to his own flat, where nobody can see him. (Well. Except Elias, maybe, but there’s no getting past that.) The problem with that, besides giving up on work for the day, is that he doesn’t have, ah. Supplies. He’s coming to accept that he might possibly actually _need _nappies, which he does not have. Meaning he’d have to stop into a store and be seen buying them.

Jon tries to think about it rationally. Any cashier certainly sees stranger things every day, and there _are _normal adults who need diapers, even young people like him. The idea of it still fills him with shame.

He scoffs. He’s stuck serving the manifestation of the fear of being watched and he can’t get over his own embarrassment. Brilliant.

Eventually, Jon gathers as many papers as he can shove into his bag. He can at least try to work at home, and get out of the Institute before Elias tries to come collect him. When he exits his office, he’s immediately met with Martin fussing over some files. Martin looks up at him, and Jon freezes.

“Oh, Jon. Are you leaving already?”

“Ah, yes, well-” _It’s fine, you’re fine, he doesn’t know-_

“I- I mean, not that you shouldn’t! It’s just a surprise, you never leave this early- Tim already left a while ago so it’s just been me out here, I didn’t think I’d see you for another few hours at least-”

“Yes, well, I thought I’d try getting work done at home, see if a- a different environment helped at all, you know.”

“Oh! Well, all right, have a good night then- maybe take the whole weekend for once? Not that I’m trying to get rid of you,” Martin says hastily, “but you deserve some rest. So- yeah. Good night.” He pauses. “Take care of yourself, Jon.”

The gentleness in Martin’s voice is almost too much to handle; Jon swears he starts to feel tears welling up in his eyes. Christ, he’s done so much crying in the last few days. “I- thank you. Good night, Martin.”

Jon heads for the door, trying desperately to not overthink the way he walks. He’s nearly out when Martin calls again,

“Jon?”

_He can tell, he knows he knows he knows what is he going to say please god don’t _pity _me-_

But instead, Martin says, “Try to eat something, please? You barely left your office all day.”

Jon can only nod mutely before rushing out the door.

Outside the Institute, he glances around. Nobody walking the streets spares him a second look, so he takes a deep breath and walks briskly to the tube.

He gets off at a station approximately halfway between the Institute and his flat and finds a small store. He spends a _long _time staring at a shelf helpfully labeled “INCONTINENCE AIDS”. When someone comes near the aisle, he panics, grabs something he’s reasonably sure will fit, and ducks into another row.

The smiling man on the package looks to be at least thirty years older than Jon. Maybe if anyone asks he can claim he’s picking them up for a father or grandfather.

Jon grabs a few more items, just so he doesn’t have to go to the counter with only the package of diapers. He ends up approaching the cashier with some biscuits, a bag of crisps, and a little pack of gum, hoping the combination isn’t somehow questionable in a way he’s missing.

But to his relief, the woman working the register doesn’t even bat an eye, just rings him up and drops everything into a bag, and Jon is on his way home again.

He’s starting to feel a _bit _better about things. Everything’s still a disaster and he’s stressed out of his mind, but at least he’s been reminded that nobody in a huge city like London gives a damn about him. So that’s _one _problem off the long, long list.

When Jon gets to his flat, there is a package sitting in front of his door. For a moment he’s afraid Orsinov and her Circus are trying something new and terrible- but then he knows (Knows?) that it’s from Elias.

Not great, but less likely to kill him, at least.

With the box sitting on his kitchen table, Jon takes a knife and carefully, _carefully _cuts through the tape. He slowly pushes the flaps aside, only to reveal a plastic package very similar to the one he’s just brought home. More diapers. _Thanks, _Elias.

Except- Jon peers closer and feels his face heat up. They’re diapers, but instead of being plain white, they have…little cartoon kittens patterned across them.

Jon sits down, buries his face in his arms, and yells into the table.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another short chapter as a stepping stone to more stuff, which hopefully will not take so long to post, not least because i've made it my birthday gift to put whatever weird nonsense i want into the next chapter. i would make this the first part of its own chapter but i'm hoping if i post it now i'll feel more encouraged to keep writing. anyway, thank you all for continuing to read this, you are angels and i love you.

Jon’s plan to ignore Elias’s gift fails.

Everything seems all right at first; he goes about his evening, washes up and changes in the bathroom. Putting the diaper on himself is- more difficult than he expects. He has to fuss a lot with the tabs until it feels secure. But it feels less bulky than the ones Elias has been putting on him, which is a relief.

He catches sight of his reflection in the mirror and winces. He looks _ridiculous, _naked save for his glasses and the diaper. He throws his pajamas on hurriedly, crawls into bed, and, blessedly, falls asleep easily for once.

It doesn’t last.

Jon wakes up around two in the morning to a familiar dampness beneath him. He sits up to discover his bedsheets are wet again. “Shit! Damn it, _why_-”

He finds the culprit as soon as he stands- the diaper, sagging in his pajama bottoms, entirely soaked through. He curses again and storms into the bathroom. It feels a bit like he waddles when he walks. Atrocious.

After tearing off the diaper and his pajamas, Jon inspects the package he’d bought that evening. _Not intended for overnight use._

Brilliant. That’s what he gets for grabbing the first thing that seemed suitable. Jon sinks to the floor.

His mattress is probably ruined at this point. When he’d started wetting the bed again- for the first time since he was maybe eight -he briefly considered buying a mattress protector but of course had been too stubborn to go through with it. “Stupid,” he mutters to himself. “Bloody _stupid._”

He starts crying. Distantly, he wonders how, with all the pissing and crying he’s been doing lately, he has any water left in him. He lets himself cry for a good, long time- he’s exhausted, everything in his life is an absolute nightmare, why _not _cry, he doesn’t seem to be capable of much else.

Eventually, when the tears have run dry, Jon takes a deep breath and stands back up. He strips the linens from his bed, makes an attempt at cleaning the mattress, throws his sheets and pajamas into the laundry, a problem for the Jon of tomorrow. He’s about to grab a fresh nappy from the package when he hesitates. He doubts he’s going to wet himself that badly twice in one night, but- he can’t be sure, these days. He certainly doesn’t want to deal with this all again in the morning.

He thinks about the diapers Elias had sent him, with their little cartoon kittens printed across them. Incredibly childish, obviously, but they looked a lot thicker than the ones Jon had bought. It might be a good idea to wear them- just at night, so he stops making such a mess of his bed. He can wear the normal ones during the day. That’s…acceptable. He can live with that.

Jon fetches the diapers from where he’d left them in the kitchen. He struggles a bit with the tabs again, but manages to put it on. If it were anything else, Jon might be inclined to call it comfortable.

He’s _so _tired. He doesn’t even put new pajamas on, just drops onto his bed, pulls a blanket over himself, and passes right out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear we're getting somewhere, i want this to just be self-indulgent nonsense but jon is being dragged kicking and screaming into all the fun stuff so we've gotta go through more work to get there. thank you for sticking with me!
> 
> (this is the second update in two days, so if you think you missed something, check the previous chapter!)

Jon wakes up to the sound of movement in his kitchen.

He tumbles out of bed, hastily pulls on trousers, and searches his room for something that might make a suitable weapon. He grabs a hefty old biography he never read; it’ll have to do. Book in hand, he creeps out into the hallway and peeks into the kitchen.

Elias is standing at his stove, making eggs. “Good morning, Jon,” he says without turning around. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

Words fail Jon. His mouth works silently for a minute before he simply says, “_Why?_”

“I thought I should check on you, make sure you were getting on all right.” Elias faces him now, and his eyes flick downward briefly. Jon flushes when he realizes that the waistband of his diaper is visible. “I’m glad to see you got my gift.”

“It’s- the ones I bought were too- that’s not a reason!” he snaps. “That’s not a reason to break into my flat!”

Elias hums noncommittally and goes back to his eggs. “You’re going through a lot,” he says. “And if I’m the only person who knows the…_details, _I suppose I’m the only person fit to help you.”

It’s still not a real answer but it’s probably as much as Jon is going to get. He huffs in frustration and drops the book onto the table. “I never asked for your help.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t need it.” Elias fills up a plate (fried eggs and toast; not what he’d expect from Elias, but then Jon probably didn’t have much else stocked) and places it on the table. “Now, please, you really ought to eat.”

Jon glares at him, hands curling into fists at his sides. But- what’s he going to do, fight Elias? So Jon scowls, takes a seat, and eats his eggs.

Elias doesn’t eat, just _watches_ silently. When Jon pushes the plate aside with food still left, he says, “Oh, I think you can do better than _that,_” and stares until Jon slowly finishes breakfast.

“Good boy,” he says softly. Jon feels his cheeks heat, but he doesn’t respond, and stares down at his empty plate instead. “Well then!” Elias stands and takes the plate. “I imagine you’re still dry- shall we get dressed, then?”

“Wh- there’s no _‘we’_,” Jon says. “_I’m _going to get dressed in _my _flat and _you’re _going to leave. You checked on me, didn’t you? And I’m fine.” Jon crosses his arms. “What more do you want from me?”

Elias looks entirely nonplussed. “Well, a ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

“_Thank you, _Elias,” Jon says through gritted teeth. “Now would you _please _get the hell _out-_”

He is interrupted by Elias sharply taking his chin in hand. Elias stares at him coolly. “I have plenty of experience dealing with bratty little boys,” he says. “I rather think you’d want to hold your tongue.” Elias steps back, looking perfectly pleasant once again. “But then, babies _do _fuss, and there’s little to be done about it. So I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you wish. I’ve left another gift on your sofa; I do hope you enjoy what I’ve brought.” And with that, Elias strides off to the door, pulling his coat on.

Jon is- stunned into silence, to say the least. He carefully touches his fingertips to where Elias had grabbed him and shivers.

“Oh, one last thing,” Elias says, making Jon jump. “I think you’ll find that the brand of nappies I bought you is _much _preferable to whatever dreadful thing you picked up. Just a thought.” He walks out the door looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Jon stares after him for a long time. “Fucking bastard,” Jon mutters to himself.

***

  
Jon does see the new cardboard box sitting on his sofa. He leaves it; fuck Elias, fuck his “gifts”. Jon can in fact take care of himself- he is _not, _as Elias said, a “bratty little boy”.

(Where the _hell _did that come from, anyway?)

It’s the first Saturday in a long while that he hasn’t gone to the Institute. He doesn’t think he could stand to speak to anyone today, let alone chance running into Elias again. He’ll work with the research he brought home yesterday, and it’ll be fine.

First: getting dressed.

The diaper he’d put on last night is still dry, and he wonders if he should just leave it on. It’s probably a waste of plastic to just throw it out, and it really is surprisingly comfortable-

Jon shakes himself, tears the diaper off, and puts on one of the plain ones instead. He does not think about how it doesn’t grant him the same sense of security as the other. He gets dressed and starts working.

Or he tries to, anyway. He hadn’t been paying very close attention when he packed his bag yesterday, and it seems he left behind nearly everything that would actually be useful. It’s going to be a long, long day.

Curiosity starts nagging at him around noon. There isn’t nearly enough work to distract him, and Jon’s mind keeps wandering to the package Elias left.

It’s probably more diapers with embarrassing patterns. They seem like a good way for Elias to mock him while pretending to be helpful. But he doesn’t _know_.

It could be more statements. It could be something that will help him actually get work done. It might not be _likely, _but it’s _possible._

He tries for hours to ignore it, but he’s eventually too bored and too curious to keep away any longer.

Jon stands back a bit when he opens the box, in case it’s filled with spiders or eyeballs or something (a silly thought, but he can’t put anything past Elias). When nothing springs out at him, he peers inside and frowns.

Well, it’s not more diapers, anyway.

The first items to catch his eye are a plastic baby bottle and a bright green pacifier, both apparently sized for an adult’s mouth. He pushes them aside only to find a small collection of children’s books, which makes him scowl. Beneath all of that appear to be- shirts? Soft shirts in light colors. He picks one up and unfolds it.

Ah. It is, in fact, a onesie, with a little smiling sun on the front and snaps at the crotch. It appears to be just his size.

They’re _all _onesies, all his size, with infantile imagery on them like ducks and, again, kittens. The last one, though, is a plain powder blue with delicate white lettering across the front.

_Daddy’s Boy._

Jon throws it back into the box, throws _everything _back into the box and slaps it shut. He storms back into his bedroom, pulls a blanket over his head, and seethes.

Absolute bastard.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooo it's been forever, how are you, i'm fine thanks. you all experienced 2020, i'm sure you can understand why this took so long. it's very short because if i don't post something now idk when i will, and i don't want to make you wait another 8 months. so: short chapter, not fully sure what i'm doing, but i'm writing and that's all i can ask for lmfao. pls enjoy

Jon lets himself sulk for a good few hours, not getting up as soon as he wets himself, but drags himself out of bed once he starts to get cold and uncomfortable.

His brain feels strange and fuzzy as he cleans himself up. He’s not tired, exactly- no more tired than he has been every day for the last…_years_. Something in him, though, makes him pause and grab one of Elias’s kitten print diapers instead of the thinner ones.

Jon doesn’t try and justify himself. The thick ones just feel better, feel _safer, _and if there’s one thing he craves right now it’s the illusion of security. And in this off center headspace, he can admit that they’re kind of cute.

So- fine. He tapes himself into a nappy covered with little cartoon kittens, throws his coziest clothes on over it, and settles down on the couch to think.

Or to try and think, anyway. Thinking feels _hard _right now. All of the problems weighing on him make him teary and frustrated. Jon, rubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his over-large sweatshirt, turns the television on as a distraction.

He doesn’t remember leaving it on some children’s channel whenever he last actually watched anything, but he couldn’t say when that even was. But the puppets on screen seem eager to teach him the alphabet, which is nowhere _near _as heavy as eldritch fear entities and the end of the world. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to just let his brain…rest a moment.

So Jon sits on his couch, curled up as small as he can make himself, and watches colorful puppets tell jokes and sing songs. Some distant part of his mind is cross at how completely juvenile the scene is, but most of him just feels _nice_. Fuzzy, but nice.

Jon isn’t sure when his thumb finds its way into his mouth. He only notices it when the show cuts to some other segment that doesn’t grab his attention so easily. He pulls his thumb out with a small, wet _pop. _But he misses it immediately, and is tempted to put it right back in.

He glances at the cardboard box next to him and perks up. Jon opens the box and immediately finds what he wants: the green pacifier from earlier. After only a moment’s hesitation, he puts it in his mouth and gives it a tentative suck.

It’s relaxing, somehow. Jon is vaguely aware of that distant part of his brain yelling at him, but he ignores it and suckles happily at his gift as he continues watching the silly puppets before him.

Jon doesn’t notice his bladder until it empties, sending wet warmth into the diaper, spreading across his crotch. He almost ignores it entirely, only feeling a vague sense of disappointment that Elias isn’t here to change him-

And the spell is broken. Jon’s eyes widen, and he spits the pacifier out onto the carpet. He fumbles with the remote control until the television turns off, and Jon wraps his arms around himself, wondering what the _hell _just happened.


End file.
